


Exit Strategy

by SaltCore



Series: Gasoline and Gunsmoke [1]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Danger Fetish Hanzo, Language, M/M, Pre-Slash, background justice siblings, of course McCree has a motorcycle look at him
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-05
Updated: 2017-11-05
Packaged: 2019-02-14 22:11:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,315
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13017198
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SaltCore/pseuds/SaltCore
Summary: Hanzo finds absolutelynothingobjectionable about McCree's driving. Quite the opposite, in fact.





	Exit Strategy

**Author's Note:**

> Cross post from tumblr

“That’s a waste,” Hanzo says. The entire room goes quiet as everyone turns to look at him. Whatever the desired effect of the sudden scrutiny, it does not cause Hanzo to retract his statement. He squares his shoulders and leans over the table, pointing to the waypoints in the hologram. “If I am covering the squad’s exit here, and Agent McCree will be retreating along this street, then there is no reason to bring the Orca so close to the facility for only me. I could meet McCree here,” Hanzo picks up a stylus and drops another waypoint onto the hologram, “and we could retreat together. That reduces the time the Orca is out of cover and in range of light artillery fire and shaves a few minutes off total projected mission time. Your motorcycle surely seats two, Agent McCree, correct?”

“Ye-ap,” McCree drawls.

“Okay, so, we’re bringing the Orca around to get Agent Deathwish after McCree is on board,” Lena says.

“Why? Why take the risk?”

Looks are exchanged. Significant looks. Fareeha sighs loudly.

“Okay, he’s got a point, and Jesse’s driving isn’t _that_ bad.”

More silence. Genji coughs, though it sounds a lot more like the word _bullshit_.

“Look, Raptora pilot speaking. I have a practical understanding of perceived versus actual risk.”

“Love, I’ve flown test aircraft, and _I_ think you’re crazy for stepping into that suit, never mind riding with McCree on that vintage deathtrap. No offense meant.”

McCree cocks one eyebrow, but doesn’t seem to have a response beside a small, amused smile.

Hanzo crosses his arms. This is ridiculous. McCree has his eccentricities, but he’s clearly capable of driving a motorcycle and keeping himself in one piece. He regularly makes runs into the city that way and comes to no harm.

“If Agent McCree has no objections, I will be riding back to the rendezvous with him.”

“Suit yourself.”

 

* * *

 

“That’s everyone out, you’re clear to fall back, Hanzo.”

“Acknowledged.”

Hanzo pulls his bow over his shoulder and takes a few steps back. He bounces on the balls of his feet _onetwothree_ and then takes a running leap across the gap between this building and the next. He rolls to distribute the impact and comes up sprinting. He clambers down the side of this building, sure even in the dark. He drops the last few feet to the ground just as bright lights begin to paint the inside of the alley.

Hanzo presses himself against the building–it’s not necessarily McCree. The vehicle turns into the alley, the electric motor nearly silent. The sound of the tires rolling against the pavement is almost lost in the background hum of the city. Hanzo squints his eyes against the glare of the headlights. He can barely make out the shape of a Stetson on the head of driver.

“Saddle up!” McCree calls, rolling closer.

Hanzo swings himself behind the other man, reaching both arms around his waist for lack of anything else to hold onto. His body armor is cold and slick, and Hanzo has to lock one of his hands around the other wrist. Hanzo tucks his feet up and off the ground.

“Ready.”

McCree twists the throttle, revving the engine and causing the back wheel to spin and kick up gravel as the motorcycle lurches forward. They pop out of the alley, and McCree wrenches the handle bar and drops one foot. They skid sideways for a few feet before the forward acceleration takes them sailing down the street.

The road is mostly empty this time of night, allowing McCree to pick up almost highway speeds on what would usually be a busy city street. He weaves smoothly around the few cars still moving, each trundling along in that slow, careful way that indicates a vehicle under autopilot. Hanzo can’t see over McCree, so he keeps an eye on their flanks and their six.

There’s one car in particular he doesn’t like. It turned onto this street after they did and keeps up a pace like theirs, a few car lengths back. It could simply be in a hurry, but it seems to be careful to keep what little obstruction there is out of the path between it and them. Hanzo leans closer to McCree’s ear.

“There’s a vehicle behind us that’s been following for the last ten blocks.”

“That so?”

McCree’s weight shifts suddenly as the motorcycle changes direction, making a right onto a side street. Hanzo looks over his shoulder. The car makes the same turn, the body of the vehicle lurching on the chassis from a sharp turn an automated vehicle would never allow.

“It’s still there.”

McCree just laughs.

The electric motor emits a shrill whine as McCree twists the throttle, sending them rocketing forward. They were simply making good time before, this is _fast_. Hanzo’s heart starts to beat faster in his chest and his hair whips in the sudden wind. He can’t help the smile that breaks over his face. Laughter bubbles up, entirely without Hanzo’s permission. It’s _exhilarating_.

Behind them, the car accelerates.

McCree tries to lose them in earnest, making snap turns tight enough their knees almost brush the pavement and flying over the streets faster than Hanzo has ever been, at least exposed where he can truly feel the speed. The car keeps pace with them, the anti-grav plates flashing brightly as the lateral thrust engages to corner.

“Grab a flash bang!” McCree shouts over his shoulder. Hanzo leans forward and pulls one free, but he doesn’t arm it yet. McCree turns suddenly in the street, the back end of the motorcycle whipping around so they’re facing the opposite direction. McCree speeds off again, right for the car. Hanzo arms the grenade, seeing the shape of McCree’s plan, and tosses it onto the hood.  

The bright white flash and sudden boom floods the narrow street, rattling the windows. There’s a second blue flash as the forward thrusters fire to arrest the car’s movement.

“That do ‘em?” McCree asks. Hanzo looks back. The car is turning, accelerating.

“No, but I have an idea,” Hanzo shouts over the motor. “Keep it steady.”

Hanzo turns on the seat until he’s facing backward. He hears McCree swear behind him and there’s a sudden weight on his belt as McCree grabs hold. Hanzo pulls his bow back over his shoulder and draws an arrow. As he does this, one window drops and a man leans out, gun aimed at the two of them. Hanzo fires first, directly through the windshield and into the chest of the would-be shooter. The glass cracks, long fissures immediately emanating from the arrow and blocking the view of the driver. They begin to slow. Hanzo draws a second arrow and fires again, this time at the driver. The car suddenly lurches to a stop, the autopilot taking over after a sudden loss of input.

“Got them.”

Hanzo twists back to face the right way. McCree shouts, a war cry fueled by pure adrenaline, and revs the motor again. The front wheel pops up into a wheelie that McCree maintains for several seconds. Hanzo finds himself yelling along, heart still hammering. He hasn’t felt this alive in _years_.

 

* * *

 

They roll up the ramp and into the Orca at an almost sedate pace, two minutes ahead of schedule. Everyone is watching as Hanzo swings himself off the motorcycle. He tries to school his face into something neutral, but he can’t, the excitement still has its grip on him.

“So, how was it tough guy?” Lena asks.

“I found nothing objectionable,” Hanzo says.

“Couldn’t wish for a better passenger,” McCree adds as he begins to strap down the motorcycle for transport.

“Ugh,” Lena moans. “You two deserve each other. There’ll be I-told-you-sos when we’re scraping you both off the pavement!”

That doesn’t seem likely to Hanzo, but he finds himself _very_ willing to tempt fate.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading, feel free to hmu at https://saltytothecore.tumblr.com/


End file.
